


The Hardest Part

by StarsGarters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, FTM, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Man Brock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not tonight, you fucking cocktease." Jack growled, "You're not leaving me all worked up and alone. Not again." It was an average Friday night. They'd done this dance before, drinking and loudly bantering until last call or getting their asses thrown out on the street. "Leading me on all the time. Goddamned pricktease!" </p><p>"Next time, you can get yourself home, asshole." Brock sighed and took a step towards the door. The floor lurched beneath him. </p><p>He shouldn't have even been in here, not after drinking. He knew that look in Jack's eye, all impulsive adrenaline and hunger. He looked like that after blowing up a building or crushing a skull with the butt of his rifle. </p><p>It was the hunger that got Brock every time, even when he knew better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Part

 

"Not tonight, you fucking cocktease." Jack growled, "You're not leaving me all worked up and alone. Not again." It was an average Friday night. They'd done this dance before, drinking and loudly bantering until last call or getting their asses thrown out on the street. "Leading me on all the time. Goddamned pricktease!" 

"Next time, you can get yourself home, asshole." Brock sighed and took a step towards the door. The floor lurched beneath him.

He shouldn't have even been in here, not after drinking. He knew that look in Jack's eye, all impulsive adrenaline and hunger. He looked like that after blowing up a building or crushing a skull with the butt of his rifle.

It was the hunger that got Brock every time, even when he knew better.  

Such a bad choice, it was such a bad choice to be in this scummy little motel room with Jack. There was no way Brock was dropping trou without warning Jack first about his anatomical differences. And you couldn't have that particular talk after shots and a pitcher of margaritas. 

Brock opened his mouth to tell Jack exactly why he wasn't jumping in the huge man's lap, but words failed him. "You're drunk. Sleep it off, Jack. That's an order." Brock shook his finger at Jack and used his best command voice. It had stunned recruits to silence more than once, but it didn't have the intended result because it wavered as much as his balance.  _Jesus,_ what was he thinking? 

Jack sneered, his lips twisted into something hard and vicious. "I'm off the clock, bitch." Brock put his hand on the door handle and Jack lunged at him, pinned him to the wood with a hand clawed about his throat. There was no pretense of tenderness, groans of pure animal lust spewed from Jack's lips as he licked across Brock's lips. Jack ground his crotch against Brock's hip, the pressure painfully hard. Brock tried to twist away but Jack slammed him back against the door, the back of his head bounced against the veneer. "You love it, bitch. Admit it. You jerk off thinking about me." 

Where was the lie? Brock squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fist. He could punch Jack in the side of the head, kick him in the junk and walk away. But he didn't want to hurt Jack, didn't want to end their sick game of teasing and tormenting each other disguised as simple buddy-talk. Gay chicken was so much fun when neither one of them would back down. That's all it was, right? _Fun and games_. This didn't feel like fun, didn't feel like a game. 

"Stop. I'm not in the mood to play." Jack ignored him, so Brock said it again, "Stop! No. I don't want this--" Jack cut off his protest with his mouth, slid his teeth down the tender inside of Brock's lip. 

"I don't fucking care." Jack's mouth tasted like salt and coppery blood. He'd bitten the inside of his own lip crushing his mouth against Brock's. Brock's pulse thundered in his ears. It felt so good, better than it should have.

"No!" Jack's booze-soaked breath hot on his bruised neck. Jack's teeth raked against tender skin and he sucked hard with sloppy wet lips. Brock choked back a whine, he refused to show any weakness. Jack would just take ruthless advantage of that.

Jack squeezed his pectoral and twisted a nipple through Brock's shirt. Then Jack grabbed Brock's groin and stopped. "Um?" The pause was damning. Jack wriggled his fingers against Brock's crotch, pressed with deliberate filthy intent. "Where's your _dick_?" 

"I was trying to tell you! God you're such an asshole!" Brock jerked up his thigh to catch Jack in the crotch, but the big man easily turned away his blow. The only way he was getting out of this was by seriously injuring his second. And it felt too damn good, the lubrication of alcohol and lust smoothing over his inhibitions and doubts.    

The fucker wanted him? Well, then, he could fucking deal with the real Brock. "You want me? Do you need a fucking road map?" A hot red flush rose from Brock's chest up past the tips of his ears. He'd chosen to become who he was and no one was going to fucking shame him about his choices. He could beat the shit out of anyone who tried. He sneered, "Lost your nerve, big guy?" 

"What? What are you?" Jack kept fumbling, rubbing around with his big strong fingers, one hand still around Brock's throat. 

"I'm Brock Rumlow. Your fucking CO." He tried to escape Jack's grasp, but Jack's grip tightened on his throat. "Why don't you find out? Or are you _chicken_?" Brock thrust his crotch against Jack's hand, hungry for his touch.

Jack's eyebrows knitted and he unbuttoned the top of Brock's trousers. He roughly thrust his hand down Brock's pants and his eyes went wide. "What the fuck?" His voice was rough and confused, Brock prepared himself for the worst. He could disable Jack with a few quick finger jabs and make a run for it. He'd have to deal with the crushing disappointment later. He wasn't prepared for the way Jack stroked his thick fingers through Brock's folds and sank to his knees on the cheap motel carpet. 

Jack pulled Brock's pants down around his knees, he stared at Brock's small hard cock, pert and red nestled in his pubic curls. Jack looked up at Brock with something akin to worship and awe in his eyes. "Jesus Christ." 

Brock shook his head, "No. _Brock Rumlow_." He smiled to cover up how he was shivering in fearful anticipation. "Still need that road map?" He pressed his fingers on either side of his cock, pulling back the hood. Jack made a guttural sound deep in his throat and buried his lips in Brock's folds.

Brock's eyes rolled back in his head as Jack suckled on his sensitive cock and ran curious fingers up and down his thighs. It was so good, too much and Brock buckled through an orgasm against Jack's face. "Jesus Christ!" he gasped. 

"No.  _Jack Rollins._ " Jack slipped a blunt finger up inside Brock and crooked it. "Like something out of a goddamned porno. So does this work?" 

"What?" Brock panted, "What are you talking about?" His head was foggy from pleasure and he ground his crotch against Jack's palm, greedy for more fingers. 

Jack pulled out his finger with a wet squelch, stood up and tossed Brock on his belly onto the motel bed. "Does it work?" Brock heard the sound of Jack's zipper and then felt the huge bluntness of Jack's spit slicked cockhead against his twat. Brock froze as Jack push up inside him, not bothering with a condom or even assent. Brock heard someone uttering a litany of garbled profanities and denials, he was mildly surprised to realize that it was his voice. 

"So damn  _tight_." Jack muttered as he thrust, one hand gripping Brock's hip, then he reached below and caught Brock's dick in his fingers. Brock moaned and that made Jack pump his hips harder and faster. He didn't last long, collapsing in a sweaty pile on top of Brock. 

They panted in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothes. Jack blinked his groggy eyes and stared at Brock in disbelief. "So." The silence was palpable. "That was fun." Brock pulled his shirt over his head. 

Brock raised an eyebrow. "You're not gonna run out of the room screaming?" 

Jack slapped Brock's hip. "Naah." He traced the thin scars on Brock's chest. "Best of both worlds, huh?" He grinned, "Works out great for me."

"Why?" Brock asked in disbelief. "Why are you cool with this?" It didn't make sense.

"Because I don't have to worry about taking it up the ass. Can't stand having anything more than a finger or two shoved up there." Jack held up his hand, waiting for a high-five, "Don't leave me hanging here, man." Brock limply slapped Jack's hand just to shut him up. 

Brock grimaced at the sticky mess between his legs. "There's always strap-ons, idiot. I gotta clean up. Didn't miss this part. Gooey mess."

Jack lazily pulled Brock closer to him and lifted Brock's thighs over his shoulders. "Let me." He noisily lapped up his cum from Brock's hole and Brock bit into the motel pillow to stop from moaning like a cheap slut at Jack's devious tongue. Jack grinned, his eyes soft and hazy over Brock's pubic mound. He stopped and tapped his fingers on Brock's thigh. 

Brock whined in protest, "Who's the fucking cocktease now, Jack?" He wound his fingers in Jack's sweaty hair and pushed his crotch up into Jack's mouth. He could grow to like this, his second in command's curious oral fixation. "You are such a pervert." After he came a second time, Jack wiped his mouth off on the sheets and pulled Brock into his arms. 

"I'm gonna have the worst hangover." Jack muttered in Brock's ear and began snoring. Brock looked up at the patterns on the motel ceiling and traced them with his eyes until he felt himself sliding into sleep. They were still going to have to have the  _talk_ , but it didn't seem nearly as frightening now.

But next time, Jack was going to have to  _ask_ to fuck him or he'd break his fucking nose. 

Even after shots and a pitcher of margaritas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if I got any of the anatomical details wrong.
> 
> Made some changes after an enlightening conversation.


End file.
